


The Loneliest Number

by ShaneVansen



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, UST, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneVansen/pseuds/ShaneVansen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been said that one is the loneliest number.  Audrey's learned that lesson the hard way.  (post-ep for <i>The Farmer</i>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Loneliest Number

**Author's Note:**

> The muse likes S3 of Haven. Apparently angst is good for her.
> 
> As always, thanks to december21st for betaing. Due to a combination of time restraints and stubbornness on my part, any possible unresolved storylines, missing commas, or other oddities or inconsistencies belong entirely to yours truly.

She'd forgotten what it's like to be lonely.

Certainly she – or the real Audrey Parker, at any rate – had experienced enough of it as a child. Then, growing up in an orphanage, it often seemed that loneliness was the norm, the sense of belonging and community and _family_ the exception rather than the rule. Since arriving in Haven, though, that feeling had been a thing of the past. Right from the beginning – almost literally as soon as she crossed the town limits, as a matter of fact – there'd been Nathan, and not too long after that there'd been Duke. Others she'd liked and trusted – Chief Wuornos, the Carrs, Chris Brody – had come and gone but even when it was just the two men, it had been more than enough. They were people she could talk to, friends she could lean on, and she'd never really had that before.

Now it's all gone, and Audrey's remembering fast what loneliness feels like.

It's all her own doing. She asked something of Duke she had no right to ask of anyone, and she picked a fight with Nathan to push him away on purpose. Audrey has her reasons, even feels justified in both of these choices, but the fallout is a little harder to bear than she expected.

She never really knew how much she'd come to rely on Duke's presence until it's gone. Since moving into the apartment over the _Gull_ she's seen him almost daily; ever since her kidnapping, he's made it a point to stop by once or twice a day with coffee or food or just a _how're you doing?_ , spending a few minutes or a few hours sitting and talking with her. Now it's an exercise in avoidance; she must remind him of the death she pretty much guilted him into causing, and she can't stand to see the look in his eye when they meet unexpectedly. These days he doesn't come in until she's left for work, and she comes home when it's busy at the _Gull_ and the crowd is there to shield her from sight as she heads for the back stairs. They haven't even laid eyes on each other in three days. She knows he'll forgive her eventually – he isn't nearly as indifferent as he likes to pretend he is – but for the time being, it's difficult.

If facing Duke is hard, working with Nathan is ten times harder.

Audrey thought she understood what she was doing when she made the decision to push Nathan away. If she's going to vanish it would be easier for them both, she thought, to make a clean break of it now rather than let themselves get in any deeper. If he's angry at her, if he doesn't want anything to do with her, then her inevitable disappearance will hurt him less and she won't have to spend her last days worrying about how he's going to deal once she's gone.

It's as much for her own sake as it is for Nathan's. She's always been selfish that way.

What Audrey hadn't anticipated is how very hard it is to see Nathan day after day and never really talk to him. They discuss cases, of course, fluctuating between talking over each other and long, uncomfortable pauses, but that sense of ease she's had with him since day one, that knowledge that he'd be there for her no matter what she needed or when she needed it, that's gone now. She never knew it was possible to see someone every day and still miss him so much.

Work's often been a refuge from her personal problems. It's missing some of the welcoming camaraderie she's become used to – their colleagues seem to have picked up on the tension between her and Nathan and are wary around them both – but it's still where she feels most herself, where she can do the most good. Even with the awkwardness, she'd rather be there than anywhere else. 

With a last look around her apartment to make sure she has everything, Audrey grabs her keys and heads for the station.

** 

"I figured it out."

Audrey turns from staring out the window of Nathan's truck to look at him. It's the first time in six days they've gone on a call together – he's been sending her with Bowen, the new guy – and, though his words aren't exactly warm and fuzzy, his tone isn't as distant as it has been lately. "You know who we're looking for?" she asks, dragging her attention back to the case.

"No. I figured out what you're doing."

Her eyes dart back to him but all she gets is his profile; he's still staring straight ahead, watching the road like this isn't the first time they've really talked in almost a week. The tight grip he has on the steering wheel gives him away, though. "Oh?" She does her best to fake confusion. "Have I been doing something?"

"Parker." Though it's just her name, it's enough to call her on her lie.

"I'm sorry." She turns her gaze back to the window; it's a lot easier having this conversation while watching the scenery move past. 

"I just don't get why."

"I thought it would be easier." Audrey closes her eyes and leans her head back against the seat, suddenly exhausted. No, not suddenly; the weight's been dragging her down ever since her abduction. It's just that she feels safer here in Nathan's truck than she does just about anywhere and it's so, so hard not to surrender to that feeling. "If you were mad at me, it wouldn't be so hard for you when I'm gone."

Nathan makes a strangled sort of sound and she opens her eyes as the truck slows to a quick stop. "Audrey," he starts, then shakes his head as if searching for the words he needs. She can't tear her eyes away from the expression on his face. "There's nothing that could ever make you disappearing _easier_."

Nathan doesn't always have a lot to say, but she's long been able to read him and his desperation at the thought of losing her is plain to see. It hits her all at once, her fate, what she stands to lose; she's been preoccupying her thoughts with Duke and Nathan and purposely minimizing the impact that The Hunter's arrival will have on her, but the inevitable loss is now staring her right in the face.

The truck is suddenly confining and Audrey tears at her seatbelt, struggling with the buckle in her haste to get out of the vehicle. It finally frees and she scrambles out of the Bronco, leaning against it, sucking in long, deep breaths to try to calm herself.

She registers that the truck has stopped rumbling against her back and that Nathan must have turned it off just as he rounds the front, calling her name. "It isn't fair," she gasps out as he reaches her, not caring that she sounds like a six year old. Her life is going to be taken from her in a little over a month and there's nothing she can do to stop it. "It isn't _fair_."

His hand comes to rest on her back and she lets herself tilt forward, resting her forehead against his chest as he rubs along her spine in steady strokes. She's not quite crying but she's close, and it takes a minute before she's under control enough that she can lift her head.

Nathan lets her shift away but doesn't remove his hand, and she's grateful for the solid warmth of him. "What I don't get," he says quietly, when she raises her eyes to his, "is why you're not fighting this."

She shakes her head, more resignation than denial. "The Troubles have been in Haven for generations, right? Probably since the town was settled?" She waits for his nod of agreement. "Which means that I probably have been too. For hundreds of years I've been appearing for a few months and then disappearing for twenty-seven years. No one knows where I go, no one knows why I keep coming back, and in all that time it doesn't look like anyone's found a way to stop me from disappearing. Why is this time any different?" She reaches out and takes the hand that hasn't come to rest on her hip. "I haven't given up, Nathan. There's just nothing that can be done."

For several moments he just stares down at their hands, and Audrey wonders what it will be like for him once she's gone and there's no one left that he can feel. Maybe the Troubles will go with her. That might make all this worth it.

"You're wrong, Parker," he says eventually. "You have given up. We have resources available now that weren't around even twenty-seven years ago. We know more about you and the circumstances around your arrival and disappearance than anyone has probably known before. There's a chance we can figure it out, but you can't back down on this if we have any shot of finding an answer."

He readjusts his grip on her hand so that their fingers are laced together, and Audrey squeezes as if he can keep her from vanishing if she just holds on hard enough. "I don't know where to start."

Nathan gives her a crooked half-smile. "I'm waiting to hear back from a couple of professors from one of the universities up in Bangor, one about the meteor shower, one about the legends surrounding Orion and The Hunter. The forensic team's going back up to the Altair Bay Inn tomorrow morning to see if they can find any traces of the person who abducted you. Stan's going through the _Herald_ 's back issues to see if he can find anything more about the Colorado Kid; if we can get a lead on who he was, or is, we might be able to track down something of his history and figure out how he's connected to everything."

He shrugs a little, like all the effort he's gone to is no big deal, and Audrey shakes loose his hand so that she can wrap her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "Nathan," she breathes. "Thank you." The words are wholly inadequate but she doesn't know what she could possibly say. He must have set all this up when he was still angry at her; she should have known that no matter what she said, no matter what she did, he wouldn't stop trying to save her.

Nathan's slow to slide his arms around her in response, and he holds her carefully. She thinks she has an idea why; it's been less than a week, after all, since she deliberately hurt him in an effort to protect him, and there's a huge chance they won't be able to find a way to stop her from vanishing. She's hardly a solid investment; in the coming weeks, she's as likely to hurt him as make him smile.

Audrey tightens her hold on him for a second before pulling back enough that she can see his face. "Nathan," she starts. "This...." She brushes her fingers across his cheek.

"Dinner," he suggests. "I'll give you details on what I know so far and what I'm waiting to hear. And we can… talk."

"Dinner," she repeats with a slow smile. He grins back at her. "But," she adds, "maybe you should come home with me after work instead of meeting me later. Last time we tried this it didn't work out so well."

"Audrey," he says, and though he was smiling just seconds before he's now completely serious. He leans in and kisses her forehead, and she feels her breath catch when skin meets skin. His next words are murmured against her temple. "I'm not letting you out of my sight unless I absolutely have to."

There are a few ways she can think of to respond to that, and most of them involve pushing him up against the side of the truck and finishing what they should have started the night she was abducted. But the side of the road while they're supposed to be investigating a case is neither the time nor the place, and so instead she manages a shaky "Deal" and a quick kiss to his cheek before ducking around him to get back into the truck, suddenly anxious to get back to the station.

After all, the sooner they get through today's work, the sooner they can have dinner.

And then, after that, she's _really_ looking forward to breakfast.

_\--end--_


End file.
